


Mischievous

by irishlullaby13



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Abbie Mills Is Working It, F/M, Fuck Canon, Ichabbie Weekend, alternate season 4, sort of shag or die trope?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-08-13 08:21:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7969405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irishlullaby13/pseuds/irishlullaby13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abbie gets scratched by a demon that forces her to admit her feelings for her fellow Witness or die when the sun comes up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mischievous

**Author's Note:**

> One last contribution to Ichabbie Weekend and #AbbieMillsIsWorkingIt  
> Me and the fic muse just decided to go full-out "what finale? I thought SH got cancelled so we can do what we want."

If she told him, it would definitely ruin any and all chances of her plan working the way she wanted it to. It was doubtful at best anyway. She couldn't help it if he came to mind when she thought about the stipulations. She'd know by sunrise at any rate.

_Did she love him_?

God yes. She couldn't think of her future without thinking about him being part of it. And not in their current capacity. She saw them eventually getting things worked out and becoming _more_. Maybe they would have kids. Maybe not.

_Did he love her though_?

Did he think about waking up with her in his arms the way she did? For all his flowery prose and vows of their destinies being entwined and choosing to forge his fate with her... she still wasn't sure. He had said those things while he still had a wife lurking in the shadows and liked to pop up at random when things got too intense between them.

Her phone chimed. Abbie scowled at the message.

**One hour left. Oh dear. Whatever shall our tiny Witness do?** the 'unavailable' number mocked.

Abbie growled and put her phone down on the kitchen counter. And she thought Pandora had been a pain in the ass. The fallen ancient Goddess was nothing to god damn Loki. 

Oh they had defeated the mischievous creature Loki had recently thrown at them. But Loki had spotted the rip in her sleeve when she had been faced with him alone. His lips had twisted into a mirthful smile. _“She didn't scratch you, did she?” he asked gleefully._

_“Nope,” Abbie had huffed._

_“Oh good,” Loki replied. “Because if it had, you have until morning to admit who it is you love.” He glanced over her shoulder as she heard Jenny and Crane trying to break through the door. “And you had better hope they feel the same.”_

_Abbie narrowed her eyes. “She specialized in spreading hate. What's love got to do with anything?”_

_“What did all of her victims have in common?” Loki asked. “They all loved someone whom loved them. Which was rather fortunate on their part as love always overcomes hate in the end.”_

_“What happens if... I don't love someone? What happens in the morning?” Abbie asked._

_“I suppose the modern phrase is... kiss your ass goodbye?” Loki replied, rocking back on his heels, smiling jovially. He disappeared in a flash of blue light at Jenny and Crane crashed through the door._

She snatched up her phone. **Go fuck yourself Loki** , Abbie sent as a reply then put her phone back down.

It was now or never, she guessed. She tiptoed through the laundry room and eased Ichabod's door open. He was fast asleep, one arm over his head and tucked between his headboard and his pillow. His blanket was pulled up to his chin. Maybe she could get away with just a kiss. He would never know. Loki never said _Ichabod_ had to know she loved him, just that she had to admit it and he had to reciprocate. 

If this worked... that would mean... _she_ would know. If it worked that would mean _he loved her_.

It would certain explain a lot. Except why the hell he never said anything.

And if she died when morning came... Well, what would it matter at that point? Sure she liked Danny well enough, but she didn't _love_ him. She could see him with a lovely wife and kids some day, just not with her.

Abbie crept into the room and stood next to his bed. Taking a deep breath, she leaned down close to him, drew in the softness of his features while he slept. “I love you, Ichabod Crane,” she whispered softly. And, because she didn't know how all of this would end, she pressed her lips to his.

She lingered because his lips were warm and felt good against hers. She lingered a little too long and she felt his chin tilt up slightly. His hand slipped behind her neck, holding her in place as his lips parted and he began to drink her in slowly. A soft moan bubbled up and spilled out from somewhere deep inside of Abbie's soul.

“Abbie...” he whispered against her lips. A statement. Not questioning.

She pulled back just enough to look down at his sleep hazed eyes. After a moment, his eyes closed and a soft smile rested on his lips. If she left now he could probably be easily convinced it was all a dream. She could return to her room and restlessly wait for sunrise. Abbie tried not to think about what would happen if she was awake a sunrise. Would it be easier if she went in her sleep?

When she made to move away, his hand reached out and grasped hers. “Don't go,” Ichabod murmured. “Stay.” He blinked up at her, his eyes tired but nonetheless aware and pleading with her. “Please?”

She nodded lightly. He pulled back the blankets. Abbie paused at the sight of his bare chest and briefly wondered if he was naked before she caught sight of black boxers with little yellow emojii faces on them. She slipped into the bed and settled down next to him, facing toward him. Ichabod offered his arm and she nestled down, using his arm as a pillow as she huddled close to his warmth. 

“What about propriety?” she asked.

“If that was truly a concern, you would not have stole away into my room whilst I was sleeping,” he murmured with an edge of humour.

“Touché,” Abbie said, quietly laughing. Her laughter died away when he gently brushed his fingers over her cheek. She put a hand on his chest and wondered if, now that he was actually awake, if he would object to another kiss. “Ichabod...”

He put a finger under her chin and lightly tilted her chin up, his thumb softly stroking her bottom lip. “Abbie.”

Without any further words, his mouth came down on hers gently. She lightly scrapped her nails down his side and back as they chartered out the new level of closeness growing between them. _In for the penny in for the pound_ , Abbie thought. She didn't object when things transitioned from slow and tentative to imploring and possessive. 

He was nestled between her thighs, atop her, when he lifted his head and panted softly to catch his breath. “Please, Abbie, do not feel as though you _must_...”

Abbie scoffed softly. “Like I'd let you do anything I didn't want you to do,” she replied wryly. 

Everything that followed was certainly something she _wanted_ to do. From him stripping off her little shorts and top to the way he seemed to kiss every available inch of skin he could reach. From the small gasps he was able to illicit from between her lips as he sank inside of her to the way he gripped the headboard with one hand when 'gentle' became a word neither of them seemed to remember the definition of.

She was astride him when the first beams of sunlight poured into the window. They both seemed to pause, as though waiting for something terrible to happen. Abbie pushed the thought that he _knew_ about what happened while she had been fighting the Norse demon. There was no possible way he would know.

A lightness filled Abbie's chest as she realized she was still alive and breathing. The sun was up. Which meant...

“Oh my beloved, Abbie...” Ichabod said reverently, entwining their fingers.

His hips thrust up against her as she rocked back against him. _Once_. _Twice_... The third time they both reached completion with soft groans. Abbie collapsed on top of him and panted for breath. 

She lifted her head and smiled at him as she swept his hair out of his face. Part of her wanted to say she loved him, while he could hear it. But, part of her felt like he already knew so she rested her head on his chest and finally let herself drift to sleep.

  
#  


Abbie awoke to Ichabod reaching for his phone which was about to vibrate itself off of his night stand. He squinted at the screen as he read whatever messages had been coming through. “Everything all right?” she asked sleepily.

Ichabod's face flushed lightly. “Wrong number,” he muttered as he put the phone back down. “Nothing of import.”

“We should go get something to eat,” Abbie suggested. “Then check on Jenny.”

His fingers traced a path down her spine. “While I will not argue with you, I do not feel at all motivated to do anything which would cause us to retreat from this bed.”

“I never said we had to go do all that right this minute,” Abbie said with a soft laugh.

About two hours later, Abbie walked through the kitchen on her way to her room to get a shower and to get dressed for the day. The blinking blue light on her phone gave her pause and she picked it up to see what missed calls she had.

She arched a brow when she noticed she had several messages from the 'unavailable' number. 

**Tick. Tick. Tick. Not much longer now.**

**The sun is rising tiny Witness.**

**I hope you have figured out who it is you love.**

**Oops**

**I have just came into the knowledge that it was not in fact that particular demon which would cause death at sunrise.**

**You should be fine if you clean your wound thoroughly.**

**Hopefully you haven't done anything regrettable or made any confessions you can't take back.**

Abbie pursed her lips and rolled her eyes as she put the phone back down. She really, really hated that dumbass God. But, at the moment, she couldn't find it in herself to be mad at him.

  
#  


Ichabod re-read the text messages he had received through the night for maybe the third time. He had turned off the sound when the God of Mischief kept sending him reminders that the clock was ticking down until sunrise.

He'd had the misfortune of getting scratched by the demon they had been up against the night before. While he and Abbie had been separated, the god had cornered Ichabod and said he would meet his demise he didn't make love to the person who held his heart by sunrise. Of course the god had not used the term 'make love' but Ichabod was a gentleman and he was not going to use what Loki had said.

Ichabod had resigned himself to his fate of dying at dawn's morning light. His dear Lieutenant had always seemed to have up impenetrable walls. And for all his attempts to tell her that he loved her—without ever saying the actual words because, he somehow felt the actual words would frighten her away, regardless of what fate had to say about their partnership—she never seemed to reciprocate his feelings.

As a man with immeasurable pride, he had not wished to make his Lieutenant uncomfortable and had thus held his tongue. But then she had let herself into his room and, being the light sleeper he was, had heard her softly whispered confession. The time he had spent in her arms since that morning had been heaven sent. He had been euphoric over the fact his beloved Grace Abigail Mills, indeed, felt the same as he.

It seemed only natural to take consort with his beloved in order to have the chance to spend his life with her.

And then he had read the text missives Loki had sent early that morning.

**I made a mistake. The demon that would have you die at morning's light is the one I am unleashing NEXT week. My most profound apologies.**

**Hopefully you didn't do anything too drastic trying to preserve your life.**

Ichabod was in just the right state of mind to wring the mischievous god's neck when they saw him again.


End file.
